Blessed is the Rot

Distortions were the stuff of nightmares, an awful curse set on their world, meant to be feared. Fenrir sat and watched, but something about how he looked at the devices told her they weren’t strange and mysterious objects to him. Going out, well, that was the future, and Fenrir didn’t waste time mulling over it anymore. His reputation was finally in line with the reality of him, at least among the high bloods.